


you're really pretty, girl

by tsuchakos



Category: Love Live! Sunshine!!
Genre: F/F, THIS IS DUMB BYE, i got secondhand embarrassment from writing yohane im dying, they/them used for yohane the nonbinary love of my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 03:41:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8234848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsuchakos/pseuds/tsuchakos
Summary: “Kunikida-san,”“Hm?”“Someone over there is staring at you.”Hanamaru is gay, Yohane is embarrassing, and everyone loves coffee.





	

**Author's Note:**

> sup its 1am  
> ghjfdj this IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING ANYTHING LOVE LIVE so im sorry if this is horribly ooc  
> the title is a hayley kiyoko reference for Extra Added Gay

“Kunikida-san,”

“Hm?”

“Someone over there is staring at you.”

Her eyes had been trained on a stressful battle sequence, her noise of acknowledgement merely a polite necessity, but at this her brows furrow in confusion and she slowly sets her book down on the table. Matsuura is looking at her with those calmly amused eyes she does so well, sliding into her seat and taking a sip of her coffee with all the grace you would expect from an athlete. Hanamaru’s always admired that in her; every move she makes is so effortless, so calmly breathtaking, and she’s at least partially certain that if half of their school is in love with her (as Ohara insists they are), that would be the reason. She doesn’t really know how she ended up here with such a popular person; they became friends through Ruby, yes, but they don’t really have many common interests.

Oh, well. She’s nice company, she doesn’t mind long silences and they have a similar coffee order.

It’s with the aforementioned ease that Matsuura’s head inclines to the left ever so slightly, gesturing to a few tables away with one eyebrow raised. “Maybe they think you’re cute.”

Her frown deepens at that: what a strange assumption to make. No one ever finds Hanamaru cute, not in the way that Matsuura is suggesting. That’s not the kind of person she is. She’s too plain - brown hair, brown eyes, round in shape and not one for flirting - and besides, it’s never really mattered to her anyway. Even so, she allows her gaze to turn, careful not to make it too obvious that she’s staring, and finds the person she’s looking for by making immediate eye contact. They promptly fluster, eyes wide and chin dipping to divert their gaze to the floor. Hanamaru’s chest tightens a little - it’s pretty adorable - before she uses the opportunity to take in their appearance.

Their… bizarre appearance.

It’s as though they’re a doll, a mannequin from a cosplay shop that’s been given life; they seem to be wearing an all black dress decorated with purple ribbons and sashes, with almost knee high boots and a presumably plastic crow’s feather almost falling out of the bun in their hair. You’d notice them from a mile away, surrounded on all sides by hoodies and jeans. Taking a quick look at their face, it’s easy to see that they’re the cute one, with a round face and large, expressive eyes. Her own face feels warm upon thinking this and she hears Matsuura chuckle and, oh, she’s staring, she’s been staring for much too long, oh god.

Averting her eyes and focusing back on her supposed ‘friend’, who looks way too happy about this whole situation, she tenses her shoulders. “They could have just been glancing at us, Matsuura-san,” she says in a heavily controlled voice, her cheeks puffed out a little. The chuckling continues. “And besides, if they were staring it would be at you, you know?”

“No, no, they were looking right at you,” her way of putting emphasis on the ‘you’ makes Hanamaru’s shoulders tense a little more.

No response comes; she sinks in her seat a little, picking up her book again and using it to hide her embarrassment. She’s never been in this kind of situation before, and she knows it’s showing, but she just hopes that they’ve stopped staring, the matter will be dropped and in an hour’s time she’ll be back in the comfort of her own home and will not have to think about it.

Matsuura hums. “Do you want me to talk to them for you?”

Nope.

“No!” she whispers, a bit too loudly, lowering her book once more and leaning forward across the table as though sharing a secret. “Why would you do that?”

“Well, you seemed like you wanted to talk to them,” her smile is much too friendly for Hanamaru’s liking. “But you’re too shy, Kunikida-san. If you want to, you should, but I’ll help this time.”

Hanamaru splutters, cheeks going pink, and Matsuura takes that as a sign to get up and walk towards the stranger’s table.

“Wh- Matsu- hey, stop!”

Anxiety anchoring her to her seat, her protests go ignored, and the experience of watching the athlete’s actions feels akin to how one feels watching a slow motion recording of a car crash. Upon noticing that they’re being approached, the stranger’s expression turns to one of confidence, bordering on smugness, but as Matsuura gestures in Hanamaru’s direction the corner of their mouth twitches, their confidence doesn’t reach their eyes, they make an unsteady move to cover something in front of them with their arm.

She looks back at her book, unable to watch, but within a few minutes she’s restless. What could they be talking about? It couldn’t be about her, could it? Risking another glance, she finds that little has changed - but now Matsuura is gesturing for her to come over, her expression quietly gleeful.

Great.

With legs like lead, she grabs her and Matsuura’s things and makes her way over, not noticing the way the stranger’s eyes grow more and more panicked with each of her steps.

“Honestly, I don’t think you should be - ah, here she is! Kunikida-san!”

Smiling politely, she tries to communicate with her friend using her eyes, but is promptly ignored. Suppressing a sigh, she turns to speak to the stranger, only a little discouraged by the fact that they seem to be sweating buckets.

“Hello! I’m sorry if Matsuura-san said anything strange about me,” she extends out a hand for them to shake. “It’s nice to meet you, um…”

A moment passes, and is followed by another.

They simply stare, looking a little shocked, apprehensive, a lot scared, and she finds herself wondering is anyone’s found her this intimidating ever in her life. It drags, and just as Matsuura raises her hand to interject they shoot up in their seat, bringing their cape - their cape? - around them with a flourish. “Aha! Yet another ignorant mortal who doesn’t know of the great fallen angel, Yohane.... It truly is such a shame, but nonetheless, they shall not let it phase them!” They flick their cape back once again, resting their hands on their hips. “Although you have yet to prove yourself, the fates seem to have favoured you, and so shall I! You may sit, human - if you dare!”

Hanamaru’s hand falls back to her side, forgotten.

For a long, long minute, her face is carefully blank. The stranger, Yohane, observes their reaction (or lack thereof), and it’s an altogether unique experience to watch their bravado crumble. Their hands leave their hips, their expression sinks until it’s bordering on mortified, and they sink back into their seat.

Voice still comically deep, they clear their throat, and say; “Sorry. It’s a nervous habit.”

All of a sudden, Hanamaru breaks out into giggles; giggles with evolve into chuckling, which quickly becomes real, full on laughter. It’s all just so ridiculous - a nervous habit? She’s wearing a cape! And that sounded almost rehearsed! Trying to calm her shaking shoulders, she watches as they nervously fiddle with the frills of their skirt, and she decides there and then that she’s officially endeared.

Matsuura watches the scene unfold, bewildered.

As her laughter dies down, the brunette pulls up another chair and takes a seat opposite Yohane, her expression still amused but friendly - inviting. “Can I call you Yohane-chan?”

“Y-yes, of course! That...that is my name, after all,” they stumble through their words, voice only just noticeably higher in pitch, avoiding eye contact by glancing up at the ceiling. She would worry that her being there made them uncomfortable, but they looked strangely pleased with themself, and Hanamaru feels her entire chest grow warm because this is all just so, so nice.

A loud clap causes them both to look in the direction of Matsuura Kanan, who is looking between the two with a small smile. “Well! I need to be getting home, I have a lot of homework to do. Not all of us do it the day it’s set, like Kunikida-san here,” she winks, which earns her an affectionate eye roll. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Kunikida-san, Yosh - Yohane-san.”

They hook their bag on their shoulder and leave with a small wave and a smile. It’s just as the door shuts after then that Hanamaru realises she’s been left alone with a stranger, and what was just implied.

“Wait - you, too? Do you go to our school?”

They jump a little in their seat, shoulders tensing, as though they weren’t expecting to be talked to. With a nervous laugh, they look to the side once more. “Yes…”

She taps her chin in thought. “Are you… a second year?”

A shake of their head. “N-No, Yohane’s in her first year.”

“So am I! But, even so, you must have known Matsuura-san; she’s really popular amongst all the years, right?”

“Ah - yes, well, we do know each other a little! You see, Matsuura-san, she recognised Yohane as she, she visited the club the other day, to see Ohara-san, so…”

Hanamaru’s eyes light up, and she leans forwards on her elbows, interest piqued. “You’re in the art club with Ohara-san? That’s great! I’m in the creative writing club, myself, but I’ve always wanted to try art.”

They nod for a second too long to convey their understanding. When they don’t respond beyond that, Hanamaru clears her throat before things can get awkward. “What kind of art do you do?”

At this, they seem to flush more, and they move their arm to once again cover something on the table - something… a sketchbook? “Nothing... much, really.”

“... Are you sure?” she tilts her head slightly, tone a little disheartened. She gestures towards what Yohane is hiding, trying to be polite. “Can I not see?”

“Um - uh, well,” curling in on themselves a little, they seem to debate with themself for a while; biting their lip, meeting Hanamaru’s steady gaze with uncertain eyes. After a moment, a breath, she begins to worry that she’s overstepped a line - after all, they’ve only just met, and to some their art can be a very personal thing, a ‘window to the soul’. If their art is something private to them, it’s not her place to invade on that. In fact, she’s about to apologise just as Yohane slowly lifts her arm. “As long as you… you promise not to think I’m weird.”

Shakily, she slides the sketchbook towards Hanamaru, and - … and.

And it’s a drawing of her.

In it, she’s depicted with a perfect posture, sitting with her floral bag hanging from her chair, her ankles neatly crossed and engrossed in a book; exactly as she had been less than 20 minutes ago. The style is interesting. It looks as though it was done straight to ink, and it’s realistic with stylised elements; edges are either sharper or rounder than they should be; her forehead too small, her eyes too large; her body flows in a way it never could naturally, and it all works to become a conclusively perfect image, in her eyes. Looking closer, she picks up on the smaller details. The freckles on her nose and cheek, the pattern on her skirt, the way her bottom lip is pushed out a little like it always is when she reads. Realising how much they must have been paying attention to notice these things, her face and arms begin to heat up, and she hopes and prays that she isn’t noticeably blushing.

“Oh - oh, wow,” she mutters, dumbstruck. “This is.. This is amazing, Yohane-chan! You’re so talented!” Sitting up straight in her seat, she fixes her eyes to Yohane’s, emanating enthusiasm, and she misses the way that they are almost definitely blushing more than she is.

“W-well! As a former angel, I do possess many talents!”

She laughs again, and Yohane thinks it sound a little bit like bells. “Is this - is this why you were looking at me earlier?”

They falter, again.

“Because, wow, that - that makes a lot more sense! Matsuura-san assumed that you ‘found me cute’ - her words, not mine, by the way.”

They tense up. Again.

As Hanamaru goes back to inspecting the drawing, they stare for a moment, counting the freckles on the bridge of her nose, and with a face that’s practically glowing red, they announce; “Your contact, mortal!”

She raises her head, confused. “Huh?”

“Y-Your contact! Number! Your - your phone!”

“Oh!” Understanding, she reaches towards her pocket. “You’re… asking for my phone number?”

“Yes!” It comes out as a squeak, and Yohane feels themself die a little inside, before clearing their throat. “Yes, that is what I meant! Y-you see, you were, very, um, interesting to draw, and I was wondering if you would be… be comfortable, with Yohane drawing you again! Maybe. However, it is perfectly acceptable if you’re not!” Forcing a chuckle, they place a hand over half of their face and look up at the girl though their lashes. “Yohane may be a fallen angel, but they are forgiving.”

Not really processing what’s happening, Hanamaru nods. “Of course, that would be fine! I’m flattered, really. Um, I’ll just…” Looking around for a moment, she grabs a pen from her bag and scribbles her number onto the side of Yohane’s cup, adding a little heart in the corner as an afterthought. “There you go!”

They notice the heart and laugh nervously for almost a full minute.

“W-well, human! The fallen angel Yohane has, duties they must perform, and for the sake of the human race’s safety,” they speak hurriedly, voice deep once again, as they gather up their belongings and stand with their coffee in a death grip. They point an accusatory finger at Hanamaru. “You shall not try to stop them, for these, duties - these duties are imperative!”

“Ah! I should get going too, actually,” Hanamaru replies calmly, pulling her bag onto her shoulder and standing with a smile. “Should I stop by the art club tomorrow? We can talk more then.”

“Y… yes, that would be. That would be pleasant.”

“Okay! I’ll see you tomorrow, Yohane-chan!” she waves enthusiastically before grabbing her drink, taking a sip from it as she half-jogs towards the door. The door’s bell sounds as it closes behind her, and she runs in the opposite direction of Yohane’s route, thank god.

Without wasting a second, they pull out their phone.

 **Contact:** Ohara-san  
> OHARA SAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> I GOT BOOK GIRLS NUMBER  
> AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA


End file.
